


Untidy Souls

by StarSpray



Series: Wisdom of the Evening Star [46]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Family, Fourth Age, Friendship, Gen, Past Character Death, Valinor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:07:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28461399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarSpray/pseuds/StarSpray
Summary: As the Fourth Age begins, Elu Thingol at last returns from the Halls of Mandos.
Relationships: Elu Thingol/Melian
Series: Wisdom of the Evening Star [46]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/44601
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter 1

_Ours are untidy souls. Both are covered with scars._  
\- Marina Tsvetaeva, "Poem of the End"

.

It was said that the first Elves awoke to the sound of flowing water, and to the sight of the stars, glittering and cold and beautiful in the black sky. Those were the first memories of the first of the Quendi. They were not Elu's first memories—his earliest memory was of his mother's laughter and his father's grin, teeth flashing white in the warm orange firelight. But they were the first things he became aware of in this new body. He had no memory of entering it or even of leaving the Halls—instead it was as though one second he was standing, if spirits could be said to stand, before one of the countless tapestries that lined the Halls of Mandos, speaking, if spirits could be said to speak, with Námo himself and with Nienna, and the next second he was inhaling new lungs for the first time, smelling flowers and damp grass and rich earth with a new nose, and hearing the soft flow of water over stone with new years. Upon opening new eyes he saw first the stars, and then the shapes of leaves and branches waving in the gentle wind—the coolness of which the first thing he felt upon new skin, as it slipped softly through the weave of the plain soft grey robes in which he was clad.

How strange to have a body again! It felt heavy and ungainly, and for what seemed like a very long time all Elu could do was lay in the grass and gaze up at the stars, sorting through all of the sensations assaulting him at once. Then a shadow came between him and the stars, and he felt the brush of silken hair on his cheeks before Melian's face bent over him, bright as a star herself and smiling as she held out her hands. "Melian," he breathed, as he grasped at her hands, the jolt of solid living flesh against his as thrilling as had been his first glimpse of the stars.

"I have been waiting for you," Melian said. She was clad in silver, with pearls and white feathers woven into her hair. "More than six thousand years you have tarried in Mandos, my love."

Mandos was fading from his memory already, like a dream upon waking. He felt as though he had slept for more than six thousand years, and yet at the same time like it had been no time at all. "I am sorry," he said.

But Melian only smiled at him, bright as moonbeams on clear water, and said, "Come. Walk with me."

They walked hand and hand through the forest beneath the stars, beside the small river that flowed winding and laughing along. Elu glanced back only once, to catch a faint glimpse of high dark walls and a small door closing, before the trees closed in behind them. Before them, as they walked, the wood opened up, with little underbrush except for the occasional cluster of berry bushes or honeysuckle. Paths began to appear, lined with pale stones or merely just a grassy verge between the trees. The river branched into many tiny streams that flowed into ponds or lakes or rejoined into other rivers to flow off and away. Fireflies winked among the sweet honeysuckle blossoms. Elu glimpsed dancers through the trees that were there and gone again in a blink. To the sound of the river and the breeze in the branches were joined faint faraway singing in languages both familiar and strange, and the occasional hoot of an owl on its nightly hunt, and tiny frogs peeping in the trees and by the ponds. The trees were massive, great beeches with towering trunks that recalled the many pillars of Menegroth long ago—as of course they would, for were not those pillars modeled on the beech trees of Lórien?

It was all very beautiful, but in the end trees were only trees and Elu found himself gazing more and more at Melian, rather than their surroundings. She was both precisely as he remembered her, and not quite so. But it was not until she reached out her hand for a nightingale to alight on her long slender fingers that he realized what was different. This was Melian as he had first seen her beneath the trees of Nan Elmoth, when her body was no more than a fana that she could take on and off as she would a gown, and her power lay over her like a veil of starlight. It had not done so when Elu had last seen her, in Menegroth. She had not been so outwardly bright, then—she had been more like one of the Children, almost, than one of the Ainur. The change had been so slow in coming that it had been nigh imperceptible, except perhaps to Melian herself. He was not accustomed to thinking of Melian as diminished, but…

She looked at him and smiled, perceiving his thoughts. "It was the price of bearing Lúthien, and of bringing forth the Girdle. I bound myself to the land, and to you, so that I might protect it while I could. No, do not grieve for it." She leaned in to kiss him. "I do not regret it. And I was careful—I knew better than Gorthaur did, who poured so much of himself into his Ring that he could not survive its destruction. I _did_ survive, and I remain still in the world to sing and laugh beneath the sun and stars."

They did not speak of the past again as they wandered through Lórien. Such was the nature of the garden that when Elu realized that he was hungry, they came upon a grove of cherry trees laden with fruit, or upon bushes laden with berries of all kinds both familiar and new. And because neither of them wished just yet for other company, they met no one, although there were almost always voices singing just on the edge of hearing, and at times in the distant trees figures could be seen flitting through. And when evening came Melian brought him to a bower beneath a willow tree, its pale green fronds hanging like a curtain between them and the rest of the world.

The next morning dawned bright and golden, mists catching and illuminating the wisps of mist that hovered over the streams and ponds of Lórien, and catching on the dewdrops to make the grass and the flowers sparkle as though someone had adorned them with diamonds. Elu woke to a chorus of birdsong, with Melian's hair lying over him like a silky veil. When he stirred so did she, and greeted him with a kiss. "Good morning, my love," she said.

"Good morning." He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back down, enveloping them both behind the shadows of her hair. It was well after dawn when they finally emerged from beneath the willow tree. Thus they passed many days, which Elu did not bother to count. Occasionally he woke to find a new set of clothes folded neatly on a nearby rock or stump. When he asked Melian where they came from, she only laughed—she laughed a great deal, when she was not singing. The clothes were sturdy and well-made, and embroidered with intricate designs, of flowers and stars and autumn leaves.

At last, Melian turned to him one golden afternoon as they sat beneath an oak tree watching squirrels busy in its branches. "Well, my love, how much longer shall you be content to wander the world barefoot and crownless? There is a throne awaiting you, and many eagerly looking for your return from the Halls, our grandchildren not the least."

Elu leaned against the rough bark of the tree, and stretched his bare feet out in front of him. His hair was loose and unadorned, and he felt no particular desire for the weight of a crown on his head, nor even of braids or ornaments. "The throne can wait a little while longer," he said. "Though I am surprised our people did not rejoin Olwë's."

"Many did, those who remembered the Great Journey," Melian said. "But even in Alqualondë they hold you to be the High King of the Nelyar, as Fingolfin is High King of the Noldor in Tirion—and Ingwë is High King of all the Eldalië, to whom even you must answer, O King of the Sindar of Beleriand."

"You may tease," Elu said, laughing, "but I am no longer so prideful that I would grudge such a thing. Or at least, I do not think I am—and when you warn me of such things, next time, I shall listen to you. But I shall never begrudge Ingwë his lordship. He was always the wisest of us."

"I am glad to hear you say so!" called a clear voice from down the path. Ingwë himself appeared, gleaming like a star in the shade of the trees. His long golden hair was plaited down his back in a simple single braid, and he wore plain robes of soft green and grey, and was adorned by no finery, except for small golden rings lining the edges of his ears that glinted in the dappled sunlight.

"Ingwë!" Elu cried, springing to his feet. They met and embraced in a patch of bright sunlight, both of them laughing through tears that fell unheeded. "Well met, my friend!"

"Well met, indeed! I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to return to us," said Ingwë as he stepped back, tilting his head back to look up at Elu, who still towered over him, as he had even by Cuiviénen when they were young, before Oromë had found them and before thoughts of journeying or of kingship or even of pride had entered their minds. Before Elu could reply he went on, "No, don't apologize! I would have you come back to us whole and in your own time, than too early and still hurting."

"Yes," Melian agreed, stepping up to kiss Elu. "Call for me when you want me, my love," she said. "I have a fancy to fly with the wild geese this morning." She inclined her head with a smile to Ingwë, a not-quite-bow, and wandered off into the trees, singing of sunlight on bright wings.

Ingwë slipped his arm through Elu's. "Come and walk with me. We have much to speak about."

They ended up beside a wide lake that reflected the clear blue sky up out of the ground. Butterflies flitted around the flowers growing near the edge; there was one portion of the bank that had been formed into a small beach of white sand, and this was where they sat. "Do you remember the place we used to meet beside Cuiviénen, with Finwë?" Ingwë asked as he picked up a handful of sand to let it run back through his fingers.

"Among the reeds," Elu said. "Finwë was always trying to weave them together into something." His baskets and mats had been functional, if not very pretty. Finwë's talents had lain elsewhere, in carving wood or shaping the clay that the Tatyar had discovered in the beds of some of the streams that fed Cuiviénen.

"I think he was trying to impress Míriel," Ingwë said.

"I did not see her in the Halls," Elu said after a moment, "though I spoke long and often with Finwë."

"She dwells with Vairë. And at least she has seen you—you are wearing her handiwork." Ingwë smiled as Elu looked down at his tunic, embroidered with niphredil so real-looking one could almost smell their sweet fragrance, in surprise.

They talked of many things—but very little of Middle-earth, or their own shared past. Instead Ingwë told Elu of all that had passed in Valinor since the end of the War of Wrath, of the doings of Tirion and Valmar and Alqualondë and of Menegroth—a new Menegroth whose building, aided by Aulë himself, had been begun in the early years of the Second Age. "It played a large part in the full reconciliation of the Noldor and the Sindar," Ingwë said. "There is still delving happening in the deepest parts, because they keep discovering new caverns to explore, many filled with strange and beautiful crystals and gemstones. It is from those caves that the gemstones adorning Dior's crown were taken. Or rather—your crown, whenever you arrive to claim it."

"I have been in no hurry," Elu said, "but if Dior is ready to relinquish it, I will come to this new Menegroth presently." He was curious to see just how closely it resembled his halls of old.

"I hope you will also come soon to Valmar," said Ingwë, smiling.

Elu laughed. "Of course! And to Tirion and to Alqualondë and wherever else I am wanted or welcome to go."

"There are many old friends eager to see you again—and kin."

Melian returned to them near dusk, and Ingwë led them down another winding path to join his traveling party, which included his daughter Maltariel. Many were elves that Elu had known before the Journey, and all greeted him with laughter and delight. They had built already a roaring bonfire, and as the stars winked into the sky and the moon rose big and yellow to peep through the trees in the east, there was much singing and laughter and dancing, and feasting, too. Many of the songs were familiar, but most were strange and new. By morning Elu had learned most of them and was in possession of a new flute and a sturdy pair of boots.

As the dawn turned the air golden, slanting through the trees, Elu slipped away from the party to walk a while alone. He could not recall the last time he had truly been alone—even in Mandos there was always someone nearby, even if there was no speech. And even before then, a king's life was not a solitary one. Now he made his way down a winding path lined with red poppies, away from even the faint sounds of music. There was no concern about getting lost—wherever he wished to go, he knew Lórien would lead him, unlike the overgrown and meandering pathways of Nan Elmoth long ago, that now lay deep beneath the waves of Belegaer. Elu stopped at the edge of a pool to watch the reflection of the sky on its surface brighten. Lily pads floated along the edges, little barges for tiny green frogs to rest. Occasionally the calm surface of the water was broken when one dove down into it, vanishing with a tiny plop. Somewhere above Elu's head a bird was singing a song he did not recognize; it took flight in a bright flash of yellow, or perhaps pale orange, and disappeared away into the trees. He breathed deep, closing his eyes, and smiled—and then laughed, because he was alive and the sun was bright, and the world was beautiful.


	2. Chapter 2

Melian joined Elu after a time, coming up behind him to wrap her arms about his shoulders and to press her cheek against his. "A party from Menegroth and Alqualondë have just arrived on the eaves of Lórien," she said. "I fancy they have come to fetch you back with them."

"No doubt." Elu tipped his head back to watch another unfamiliar bird flitted past, a quick jewel-bright flash of feathers.

"There is a crown of jewels and gold awaiting you," Melian went on, "but until then…" She held up a wreath of niphredil blossoms, twined with violets and buttercups and daisies and deep green ferns into a fragrant crown. Elu laughed, and allowed her to place it upon his head. "Now you are ready to greet your people!"

They returned to the meadow where Ingwë and his folk were still singing and laughing together. Ingwë also had a crown on his head, of bluebells and bright poppies, and his daughter was busy braiding violets into her own hair. After a short time they heard other voices raised in song—singing songs written long ago in Eglador beneath the bright stars, and in the first Menegroth after it was newly delved. Melian laughed and joined her voice to theirs, setting all of the songbirds in the nearby trees also into a chorus.

The new party was primarily made up of Sindar from Doriath. At their head was Elmo, his white hair in loose curls about his shoulders. They all cheered as Elu stepped forward to greet them. Elmo embraced him, laughing for the sheer joy of the reunion. With him was Galadhon, and Galathil, and their wives, and many other familiar faces—too many of whom had come to Valinor by way of Mandos. The Vanyar welcomed the Sindar into their party with delight, and some of the Maiar who dwelt in Lórien flitted out of the trees to abandon the appearances of butterfly or sunbeam, and take Elven form to join in the fun.

Toward evening, Elmo and Elu slipped away from the party, and took a winding path through the wood. It was lined with flowers, and for a while their talk consisted only of Elmo telling Elu all the names of the unfamiliar ones. At last they stopped beneath a mallorn tree, its leaves all silver-edged spread over them in the canopy, glimmering softly in the purple gloaming. "For a time they stood in silence, contemplating the trees and the grass and the flowers. Then Elmo said, as though remarking upon the weather, "You made some spectacularly foolish decisions at the end of your first life, brother."

"Yes, I know."

"I suspect it is because I died," Elmo went on, "because if I had been there I would not have been afraid to hit you upside the head until you heeded your wife's council."

Elu smiled, though he couldn't quite bring himself to laugh as Elmo clearly intended. "I missed you and your council sorely, brother," he said. "There is nothing like one's little brother to keep one's pride in check."

"Which is too bad," Elmo said. "Though I daresay Elunis could have managed, if she hadn't died too."

"I noticed she didn't arrive with you."

"She's off with Minyelmë wandering in the west, somewhere," Elmo waved a hand in a general, westerly direction. "I'm not sure they've heard yet that you are returned to us. You remember our daughter?"

"I remember all of your daughters." One now dwelt in Valmar with Ingwë, High Queen of all the Eldar, and the other, it seemed, had retained the wanderlust that she shared with her mother, and which had led to her death. But there had been a third. "Has Neunë never come from Mandos…?"

A shadow passed over Elmo's face as he shook his head. "We have never learned what became of her," he said. "If she answered the call of Mandos at all, I am not sure she will ever return to life. There are many such tales. But we have Lúnamírë and Minyelmë, and Galadhon and his children and their children too—although Celeborn yet dwells in Middle-earth. And now we have you back as well!"

"Yes, if you will have me," said Elu. "My foolish decisions brought about the doom of Doriath and great suffering."

"It is not forgotten, though it is forgiven—mostly. You will find a magnificent welcome when you come to Menegroth, but in speaking with your close kin you may find things are not so simple. You passed on both your pride and your temper—do not be surprised to see it reflected back at you in the faces of your grandchildren!"

The party that left Lórien at last was large and merry, with Ingwë at its head and Elu beside him, both of them crowned with woodland flowers. The Vanyar and the Lindar who followed them walked arm in arm, laughing and singing together in harmonies sweet as morning birdsong. At the edge of the woods of Lórien the land opened up wide before them, green and gold grasses waving in the breeze, the road stretching out before them like a ribbon, worn smooth by Ages of feet and hooves and wheels following its course.

Overhead the sky was clear and blue, the sun blazing hot and bright, scarcely a cloud to be seen. Birds fluttered along the tree line and gathered in large flocks in the fields, where herds of beasts that Elu could not name at this distance roamed.

The journey was an easy one. Some days they walked from sunup to sunset and others they did not leave their campsites. Other nights they were welcomed at inns or the houses of farmers who herded sheep or cattle, or grew dozens of different crops, many of which had not grown in Beleriand, and were thus strange and new and marvelous to Elu. These farmers and innkeepers were used to travelers new-come from Mandos, and were only a little flustered when they learned that they were hosting not one but two kings.

At last the famed city of Tirion upon Túna came into view in the distance, gleaming white upon its hill, surrounded by farmland and pastures and with roads leading every which way. Beyond on either side stood the wall of the Pelóri, impossibly tall, their peaks shrouded by the haze of distance even Elven eyes could not pierce, or else by pale clouds; through the opening where Túna stood a distant glimmer of sky and perhaps the Sea could be glimpsed. "There lies Menegroth," said Ingwë, as they came to a fork in the road, pointing to the fork leading south of Tirion into the foothills of the Pelóri. "And beyond the Calacirya is the Bay of Eldamar, and Alqualondë on the shore."

"And there are other cities, too," Elmo said on Elu's other side. "The princes of the Noldor grew so used to having their own realms in Beleriand that they couldn't dwell again together in Tirion without endless bickering."

"I shall see them all in time," said Elu. He looked over his shoulder and smiled as Melian approached; Elmo moved aside so she could slip her arm through Elu's. "Ingwë, will you come to Menegroth with us?"

"Nay!" Ingwë laughed. "Let your people celebrate your return without worrying about another king getting in the way. Here we shall part, for the time being. I hope we shall meet again soon—and so I leave you with only one edict from your High King, Elwë Singollo. Do not tarry in making your peace with the children of Finwë! The Kinslayings are past, and while not forgotten they have been long forgiven."

The Vanyar continued along the road toward Tirion, laughing and singing as they went. The Sindar, with Elu and Melian and Elmo at their head, turned eastward on the road to the mountains. It was a broad and flat road, well-built and often traveled. It passed out of the open fields, where barley and wheat were growing in waving golden stalks, and into the woods where the road narrowed a little beneath great ancient trees with wide branching canopies, the leaves so thick that there was hardly any bright sunlight able to pierce through to dance dappled on the leaf mould below. The very air was tinged with green, and it smelled of wood and leaves and earth. Birds were singing. A deer darted away at the sound of their coming, tail up as a bright white flash in the shade before it disappeared into the distance. There was very little undergrowth. Here and there smaller paths branched off of the main road, leading to little clusters of houses, or to single dwellings. Sometimes they could be glimpsed without any path at all leading to them. Figures moved among them, and scurried up and down the great trunks of the trees with the ease of squirrels, for there were even more dwellings high in the branches than on the ground. They would pause and wave, if they were close enough to the road, and sometimes call out greetings. When it was called back to them who passed, there was often a great cry of delight, and many times the forest-dwellers ran to join their party. There were many familiar faces, and even more unfamiliar, all smiling broadly. Runners raced ahead with word of Elu's return.

Many small rivers and streams flowed down out of the mountains, frigid with snow melt, and joined together into a larger river that flowed with a sound like laughter through the forest, tumbling over stones and winding between little hills and through tree-shadowed hollows. It flowed like the Esgalduin before the gates of Second Menegroth, which were opened wide, the stone on either side carved like great trees with their branches reaching out over the top to twine together. The river was spanned by a bridge, wide enough for several to walk abreast, and as Elu and his ever-growing company came to it, they found Dior and Nimloth already halfway across, with a crowd behind them. A cheer went up as Elu and Melian stepped forward away from the crowd behind them.

They met Dior and Nimloth in the middle of the bridge. Elu had never met his grandson in waking life. He was as fair as Lúthien had been, with shadow-dark hair and star-bright eyes and the broad shoulders of his father's people, and he stood nearly as tall as Elu himself. Nimloth was white-haired and slender as a young tree, with blue eyes and freckles on her nose. She wore her hair braided up in a crown about her head, twined with pearls and violets. Dior's hair hung loose about his shoulders, and he was crowned with what at a distance Elu had taken to be leaves and flowers, but up close he could see that the crown was made of gold and silver and copper and inlaid with thousands of tiny gems to give the illusion of living greenery, with fruits and leaves and flowers from all seasons—golden winter mallorn mingling with summer berries and spring snowdrops, all glittering in the sunlight.

Smiling broadly, Dior reached up and removed the crown from his head. He held it up so the gemstones flashed in the sunlight, for all to see, and proclaimed, "At long last our king has returned to us!" A great cheer went up on both side of the river. "Gladly to I relinquish this crown. Welcome home, King Thingol, Queen Melian!" He knelt, offering up the crown.

"And gladly do I take it up," Elu replied, as he accepted it. The metal and the stones were warm beneath his fingers. "Will you have me again as your king, people of Doriath?" he asked, voice ringing through the wood, and in reply the crowd behind him and before him cheered, and it only grew louder when he placed the crown upon his head; it felt strange and heavy after the garland of flowers Melian had given him in Lórien, but it was not an unwelcome weight. "Rise up, Dior," he said, in a quieter voice, and held out his hands to his grandson. Dior gripped them and rose, and Elu pulled him into an embrace. It was brief but fierce on both sides, and then the four of them, Elu and Melian and Dior and Nimloth, turned and walked together back across the bridge to the entrance of Menegroth. As she stepped off the bridge onto the grass Melian lifted her voice and sang, and white and pale green niphredil burst into bloom up and down the riverbank, and nightingale trilled in the trees around them.


End file.
